


Kiss Me Like You Love Me

by uhmyeah



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Crying, Heartache, Heavy Angst, Holding Hands, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Smut, This is really sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-18 00:39:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16107122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uhmyeah/pseuds/uhmyeah
Summary: Luke is super heartbroken about the relationship michael and he shared years ago. He writes and writes but he can't seem to find it in him to write what he means.aka how Why Won't You Love Me was written





	Kiss Me Like You Love Me

These days, its more cloud than sun. The light from his laptop screen is blinding in his silent, dark bunk of the bus. It is nearing three in the morning, and he just. He just can’t sleep. Luke can’t remember the last time he slept properly. The sound of How I Met Your Mother playing through his earbuds isn’t even working anymore. Nothing works anymore. Luke’s watched the series time and time again for just the slightest sliver of comfort, but he’s beginning to think that he’s used it to dust. Nothing works anymore. Nothing works to distract him from the heartache that is living, growing, multiplying, in his bones, in his blood, in his heart. Nothing works as a distraction from the question that he asks himself in the early mornings while everyone is asleep. And, just like there is no distraction, he thinks there isn’t an answer either. But he continues asking himself, asking the ceiling, asking the pen and paper and thumbs tapping on his notes app and all the gods and goddesses and deities in all religions of the world-why wasn’t I enough? Luke finds that he isn’t even watching the show anymore, and that he’s instead fixated on the lights hanging around his small bed. With a sigh, he shuts the screen of his laptop and tucks it away, as well as cutting off the string of lights around him. Rubbing his eyes, he lays down and tries to doze off, but he just can’t. His mind is racing too much and his heart is beating too heavily for the thought of sleep to even happen.

After a few moments, he flips over and switches the lights around his bed back on and grabs his journal to write. It takes him longer than he’d like to admit to come up with something, anything. He briefly scolds himself for it, Luke, you write for a living, it isn’t that hard. But it’s one thing writing song lyrics, that are released to the public and the public’s grandmothers’ grandmothers, and another thing writing things that are so personal, so real, that even you feel uncomfortable reading over. Eventually, though, it happens.

_Switching into airplane mode, I’m not alright, I can’t pretend._

_Press my cheek to the glass, don’t be gone when I get back._

_The ~~time~~  ground? disappears, I can’t hold back my tears_

_Check my phone and see your face, staring back, please wont you say_

_Don’t worry, youll never be lonely._

Luke lets out a heavy breath, shutting the book for a moment. He knows what he’s going to write, he knew it from the second he opened his journal. He just can’t bring himself to do it; once its in paper its real, its an actual thing that exists outside of his mind and he’s just-he can’t deal with that. He doesn’t want it to be real. So, like any sane person going through tremendous amounts of heartache that shouldn’t even still be around, he leaves his bunk for tea. Quietly, he tiptoes into the lobby of the bus, and shuffles through the drawers for the tea bags. Once located, he cuts on the kettle to boil as quietly as he can and waits. His heart is hammering in his ears and his legs feel like they’re cooked spaghetti. Everything is closing in around him and he feels like he’s drowning when he braces himself against the small counter of the bus. As the tears fall faster from his face, in heavier drops, he can’t help but chuckle at himself darkly, self loathingly, because if anyone were to walk in to this scene, they would be seeing the most ridiculous thing ever, he thinks. A 6 foot something man in a baggy hoodie that represents his own band, and sweatpants, crying over a tea bag and boiling water, at nearly four in the morning on a tour bus. Yeah, what a sight. Before his thoughts could spiral much more, though, the kettle dings and Luke shushes it and yanks it off of the little portable stand it heats up on. He pours himself a cup, dunks the tea bag into it, and shuffles over to lounge on the couch.

Luke looks out the window, at all the passing trees and interstate lights and listens to the zooming of cars beside them and wonders where the hell they are, where the absolute hell are they, where is the next show, when is it, what’s going to happen at it, will it go well, will the fans be satisfied, will the crew be good like they always are, will the openers be amazing like always, will the boys be good, will Ash and Calum stay in the right tempo, will he stay in the right tempo, will he sing on pitch or go back to the squeaky tones he held on youtube all those years ago with Michael-Michael. What will Michael do? If he gets nervous before the show, will Michael be there to calm him down like he used to? If there’s an interview that day and he can’t find the will to speak out of sheer anxiety, will Michael be there to answer for him or make his answer better like he used to? If, god forbid, something happens to Michael on stage again, will he allow Luke to take care of him? To come in his bunk like a lost puppy trying to comfort him? Will Michael let Luke worry about him?

When Luke comes back into the present, his tea is no longer hot and the sun is rising. He rubs his eyes sadly and sighs heavily, taking a swig of the tea and grimacing. He doesn’t even like tea, why’d he make it? Michael loves tea, he should’ve just gotten water and left the tea for Michael. He opens a window and pours it out before shutting it and getting up to put the cup in the sink. Once done, he shuffles back to his bunk, throws open the curtain, and climbs inside, probably kicking Calum on the way up. When he flops into his pillow and hears a displeased groan from the bunk below him, his thoughts are proven. He’ll apologize later.

Luke shuts his eyes and hopes he can sleep now. Slowly, he feels himself falling. Finally, he thinks, quiet.

When Luke startles awake, it is from a roar of laughter from Ashton. Luke groans, flipping over onto his stomach and shoves his face into a pillow, groaning. One of them, Calum, he thinks, tells everyone that Luke is awake.

“No ‘m not, leave me ‘lone,” Luke says.

Another small laugh bubbles up from someone. Luke is too tired to know who. It isn’t Michael, he knows his laugh from a mile away.

“C’mon out! We stopped by a fast food joint for breakfast!” Ashton yells.

“Not hungry, leave me alone, I’m sleeping”

“Luke, c’mon man- “

“Calum, please- “

“Luke, c’mon. It’s Macca’s. Got what you always get, c’mon, it’s still hot.” Comes a gentle voice, Michael’s.

Fucking Michael. It’s always fucking Michael. Michael and his usage of Australian slang, even though his accent is leaving him, his green eyes, and pale skin, and glasses he wears when he can’t be bothered for contacts, and his way oversized hoodies, and long hair and stubble, and tattoos, and-and. Michael and his way of words, his way of loving, his way of captivating everyone he fucking meets without even trying. Michael and his way of being the only light in Luke’s life while, somehow, also being the darkest matter in the universe. It’s too early and Luke is too tired and heartbroken to ponder much else, so he groggily makes his way out of bed.

“He lives!” Calum jokes, and Luke laughs along.

“Yeah,” Luke replies. He doesn’t add the ‘barely’.

When he takes a seat beside Calum, he opens the wrapper to his sausage biscuit. He takes a couple bites, listening in on conversation, before going to take a swig of his coffee. He grimaces; it’s black and he hates black coffee but the cream and sugar are by Michael and he has a shit-eating grin on his face and Luke knows Michael has something up his sleeve. He prepares himself for the worst.

“Hey, Mike, pass me the cream and sugar, would you?” Luke asks, as nicely as possible without sounding rude.

“Dunno. Come sit by me. I’m lonely. That couch has all three of you on it and I’m over here, all alone, collecting trash on both sides.” Michael says.

Luke hates him. He truly, completely, hates him. Except he doesn’t. He never could. He’s too tired for this.

“C’mon, please? Don’t do this mate, not up for it.”

“Mate?” Michael smirks.

“Macca’s?” Luke retaliates.

“You sound more American- “

“Michael, c’mon, just pass the- “

“Come sit with me.” Michael replies.

Calum and Ashton have lost interest by this point, talking in the background to each other.

“Why won’t you sit with me? It’ll get you your- “

“Michael!” Luke yells, “Just-just. Fuck it. Get me when we’re at the venue.”

Luke gets up, leaving his food and coffee behind, and climbs back into his bunk. He pulls out his earbuds and turns on one of his playlists and curls into his pillow. Muffled, he hears Michael saying something about not meaning to make Luke upset, that he thought it was all teasing, the like. Ashton and Calum comfort Michael briefly, and then Luke hears Michael’s Switch cutting on and their conversation is dropped.

Luke is woken up by a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, we’re at the venue. C’mon.”

It’s Ashton.

“Can’t.” Luke replies. At least he’s honest, right?

“You can. C’mon, I’ll help, grab my arm- “

“No, Ash, I. I-I can’t, I can’t do this anymore, I can’t keep, can’t keep doing-doing this anymore- “

“Doing what anymore? Luke, what’s wrong?” Ashton asks, climbing into Luke’s bunk.

Luke curls further into himself to make room for the drummer.

“This,” Luke gestures wildly with his arms.

“Luke, I don’t- “

“This, Ash! I can’t keep doing this!”

“The band? Touring? What- “

Luke whines pitifully, staying silent for a moment. He begins to cry, silently, with a few tears running down his face. Ashton goes to comfort, but Luke cuts him off.

“That,” Luke says near silently, sniffling, gesturing vaguely towards Michael’s bunk. “I can’t keep doing that.”

Ashton seems to understand now. He rubs Luke’s back soothingly.

“That was so long-ago Luke, you can’t keep holding onto that.”

“I know. I can’t let him go, though.” Luke replies, feeling himself grow closer and closer to breaking.

“You can. You can do it, Luke.”

“I can’t.” Closer, closer. Help me cry, Ashton. Help me break.

“Why?”

There it is. Luke cries, tears falling rapidly from his eyes, flooding his ears, drowning his pillow.

“I can’t, Ash. I can’t let go of him, I don’t want to be his boyfriend anymore, I don’t want to love him ever again, but I can’t let go. He fucking killed me, Ash, he took my trust and my heart and soul and every-fucking-thing I have and threw it in a fucking garbage disposal. I loved him with every single fiber of my goddamn self, I trusted him with my life, I told him things I’ve barely told myself, I fucking pierced my lip for him. I gave myself to him; my love, my body, my trust, and what does he do? He fucking tells me he slept with someone else, Ash. My Michael, gone, just like that.” Luke rushes out, sobbing.

“Luke, what he did was awful and wrong and I don’t know what it’s like- “

“No, you don’t. You don’t know what it’s like to constantly be questioning why you weren’t enough, Ash. I couldn’t have given him more, I couldn’t have, I gave him every last ounce of anything I had in me and he took it and left me for someone else. Michael chose to do that, he chose to cheat on me, but I. I should’ve tried harder, or put out more, let him have his way more with me- “

“Luke. Listen to me. There’s nothing you could’ve done. Things like that happen, unfortunately. You don’t deserve it, you don’t, at all. I promise. You’re the kindest guy I know Luke, and I saw how you were with Michael. You were always so loving, and caring, towards him. Always looking out for him. He just, I guess, stopped looking out for you. He was drunk, and I know that means nothing, but I remember rooming with him the night after and, fuck, he was so broken. He knew he fucked up. Listen. You deserve more, Luke. You shouldn’t beat yourself up over this. There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

Ashton pulls Luke into a hug, rubbing his back, trying to calm him down and stop his crying.

Luke stays silent, just breathing.

Then, so quietly Ashton almost misses it,

“Why wasn’t I enough?”, Luke asks, even though that isn’t the question burning his mind, begging to be said, written, but refusing to come out.

Ashton sighs, moving his hand to Luke’s hair.

“I don’t know, Lu, I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.” Luke says, muffled against Ashton’s shoulder.

“Still. You’re too loving for your own good, Hemmo.” Ashton jokes.

Luke chuckles wetly. He moves his face from Ashton and wipes his nose on the back of his hoodie sleeve.

“Yeah. Tell me about it.”

Ashton smiles, hopping out of the bunk and patting Luke’s knee.

“C’mon big boy, the venue is super cool and the acoustics are insane, I think. I was waiting to check them out for you.”

Luke jumps out, coughing and wiping his eyes and face once more.

“I’m going out in this. I don’t have it in me to put on jeans. I feel too constricted already. Sorry to crew for my ass in sweats.” Luke says, and Ashton chuckles. Luke grabs his sandwich from breakfast on the way out. 

Ashton pats his back and ruffles his hair on the walk inside.

When they walk in, Luke can tell it’ll be an amazing show. The interior is gorgeous; rows and rows of seats from the floor to the ceiling, gorgeous wood paneling, and, wait-

“Hello!” Luke yells.

-yep. Amazing acoustics.

Ashton comes up beside him and puts on a ridiculous Australian accent, yelling “We’re Five Seconds of Summer!”. Luke leans back with the force of his laugh, and continues on with him in an equally obnoxious accent. The two end up laughing so hard they have to stop or they’ll either stop breathing or pass out from too much laughing. They end up sitting on the edge of the stage, swinging their feet. Luke feels infinitely calmer, happier. The stage always had that effect on him.

“Thank you, for everything. I know sometimes you get like this too and no one really does anything to help, I mean, we try, but you just kinda. Know. How to handle it yourself. I just, come to me, whenever, yeah? I know how terrifying bad moments are, and how hard it is to pull yourself out of it. Just know I’m here. You don’t have to talk. Just, like, climb in my bunk and like, I dunno. Cry. Or do whatever you do. I won’t judge.” Luke rambles.

“Even if it’s because I miss my mom?” Ash jokes.

“Especially then.”

“Even if I miss your mom?” Ashton jokes further.

“I’d be curious as to why my mom, but I wouldn’t judge you. My mom rocks.”

“Yeah. Liz is awesome. I don’t really like knowing she heard what she heard when she was touring with us, but uh, that’s what happens when you’ve got four teenage boys, y’know?”

“Yeah. There’s uh. Some things I wish she hadn’t heard. But. Oh well.”

“Not like she hadn’t heard them before.” Ashton says.

A few moments of silence pass.

“Wait, ew! Ew, what the fuck!” Luke laughs out.

“What! She’s an adult woman- “

“Ashton, no, stop, please- “

“-who has children- “

“Ash, please, stop- “Luke says with labored breathing from laughing so hard.

Ashton joins in, laughing with his bubbly laughter.

“Sorry,” Ash begins, before cutting himself off with giggles. “-I’m not, I’m not sorry.” He finishes, laughing.

Luke playfully punches his thigh, laughing.

“I know you’re not, dickhead. Thanks for that image, mate.”

“No problem.”

Luke and Ashton sit in silence for a while, staring off into the room where thousands of people would be standing the next day.

“I’m exhausted.” Luke says.

“I’m sure. You need anything?”

“A good cuddle. I need a good cuddle, maybe a beer, but mainly a cuddle.” Luke replies.

“Well,” Ashton says, standing and brushing off his jeans, “let’s go backstage. Or onto the bus. Us Cancers gotta stick together, yeah?”

Ashton gives Luke a hand to pull onto while getting up. Luke smiles, pulling himself up.

“Yeah. Can we just. Backstage? The bunks are too crowded.” Luke says, yawning.

“You are, like, 9 foot tall.” Ashton jokes, leading the way.

“9 foot tall. Yeah.” Luke says, following close behind.

Once they get backstage and find a couch, Ashton flops down first, making room for Luke. Luke lays down, tucking himself close to Ashton and smiling. After a while, Luke starts dozing off, but wakes up when he feels Ashton move to get up.

“Where y’going?” Luke mumbles.

“’S fine. I have to pee, and I was gonna get a blanket from the bus. The A/C is fucking freezing me to death. I’ll be back. Don’t move.”

Luke stays put and shuts his eyes again. When Ashton gets back, he climbs over Luke and situates the blanket over both of them.

“Thanks.” Luke says.

“No problem. You okay?”

“Exhausted. Wish we were in a hotel. Is this too, like, real…?”

“Real?” Ash asks.

“Yeah, like. Is it too much like a relationship for you?”

“Cuddling? Luke, what? Of course not. Do you not remember on the first tour how, literally, me and Cal would sleep in the same bed nightly?”

“Huh? I thought you guys- “

“What?! You-Calum-really?” Ash laughs.

“Hey! In my defense- “

Ashton laughs and pulls Luke closer. Luke snuggles his face into Ashton’s chest, calming himself down.

“No. We weren’t dating. I mean, we fucked a couple times, but nothing much else. It was just two guys- “

“-chillin’ in a king bed no feet apart cause they’re not gay” Luke quips, muffled against Ashton.

“-I mean, I’m gay, but. We never really saw the point of dating each other when we were always gonna be around, y’know?”

This confuses Luke.

“No? Wouldn’t that, I mean I get it now that I’m, like, old, but wouldn’t that have been more the reason _to_ date?”

“I mean, I guess, but time alone is key in relationships. You shouldn’t spend all of your time with them. And Cal would’ve respected that, and I would’ve, but we were young. We would say we’d respect alone time, but you know how it is. That doesn’t happen when you are kids.” Ash says, rubbing Luke’s back.

Luke nods.

“Yeah. I dunno. I guess me and Mike kinda, kinda said, fuck it, let’s do it anyways. I dunno.”

“I mean, I get it. Parts of me wishes that we had too, but. Is what it is.” Ashton sighs.

After a few moments of silence, Luke speaks up.

“Do you miss it?”

“Miss Calum?” Luke nods. “I mean, yeah, but I know that if I crawled into his bunk, he’d cuddle me again. It isn’t like, lost love. I miss the carelessness more, I think. Like, we were young, it was fun, it was kinda like a safety blanket. It was like that extra thing that was home away from home. I guess I miss the feeling and the ability to do it rather than actually doing it. I dunno. I guess I miss being young and unaffected by the world.”

Luke snorts.

“That’s a hard same, Ash.” Then, after a moment, “I miss it too.”

“Hey, don’t go getting sad again. I’m right here. It’s okay.”

Luke nods and stays silent. Before long, his breathing begins evening out.

“’S it okay ‘f I sleep?” Luke asks.

“Course. Rest, Luke. I’ll be here when you get up. Or, I’ll be close. I may need to pee again.”

Luke smiles, nods, and snuggles into Ashton’s arms, falling asleep.

This time when he wakes, it’s from a far too familiar voice.

“Luke, hey, wake up. Bus is going to the hotel. C’mon.”

Ashton’s arms tighten around Luke’s middle in his sleep, but Luke opens his eyes.

“Michael.” Luke says.

“Yeah. Hey.”

“Hey.”

They stare at each other for a moment.

“You, uh. Bus. Its- “

“Yeah. Let me wake Ash up and we’ll be right there.”

“’kay. Don’t be too long.” Michael says, poorly masking the twinge of hurt in his eyes.

What? Why was he upset?

Luke rubbed his hands on Ashton’s arms.

“Hey, wake up.”

“Wha’- “Ashton mumbles, waking up.

“Bus is leaving soon. C’mon.” Luke says gently.

The two get up, Luke supporting Ashton’s weight on the walk back to the bus.

The two walk in, after a good few minutes trying to figure out how to get up the stairs while one is still half asleep.

Luke flashes Michael a smile, for the first time in a long time, and holds up a finger to tell him to hold on. He walks Ashton to the bunks and helps him get in. Luke goes back to the lobby and sits across from Michael. They don’t speak, but the tension is gone.

But, just like that, they’re told that they’re rooming together, and the tension is back. Luke gets up.

“Hey, why are we rooming together? None of us have shared rooms in like, years. Why now?” Luke asks their manager.

“It was cheaper and more of a better option.”

“But- “

“Sorry, no exceptions, kid.”

Before Luke can argue, their manager walks off.

Once they unload their luggage and Ashton is aware of the circumstances, he walks to Luke.

“Hey, wanna room with me? Cal can- “

“No, its fine, thank you though. I’m gonna try to just go straight to sleep.”

Ashton looks sympathetically at him.

“Okay. Get some rest.”

Luke nods, wheeling in his suitcase and hopping in the elevator.

He gets to the room after Michael, so he just knocks on the door.

Once let in, he sets his bag on the bed by the window and air conditioner.

“Hey. I’m gonna go shower,” Michael says.

“Okay. I may be asleep when you’re back. Don’t drown.”

Michael breathes out a little laugh. “I’ll try. Sleep well, Luke.”

Once Luke hears the shower start, he burrows himself in the sheets and tries his best to ignore the pain zinging around in his heart. Did Michael remember Luke liked sleeping by the window and A/C or was it just a coincidence? Either way, Luke’s heart hiccups painfully as he holds in tears and pulls out his journal. He goes to write what’s been on his mind, but he just can’t. He can’t, it becomes real then. He puts away the journal and shuts his eyes, clutching the pillow with a vice, stuck between wanting to never be this close to Michael again, never see him or think of him ever again, and wanting to curl up into his arms.

He must’ve fallen asleep eventually, because when he wakes, the room is darker and there’s a sleeping Michael in the bed opposite him. He feels his eyes well up with tears, so he just turns to face the window and tries not to cry too loudly. As a distraction, he pulls his journal back out, checks the time, and starts writing.

_Its three am and the moonlight is testing me._

_Once the sun comes up, it won’t be hard to see that I’m not happy._

Luke tries to continue writing, but the words don’t come to him and he can’t focus on anything. He so desperately wants to just curl up against Michael like he used to; jostle him awake gently and tell him what’s wrong, why he’s hurting. He wants to be held in Michael’s arms again, wants his back rubbed gently by Michael’s calloused hands, wants Michael’s freshly showered, distinct _boy_ smell filling his nose and lungs until he can’t breathe anymore. Luke wants the quiet, near silent, murmurs of love, of reassurance, in his ear; wants Michael’s breath on his neck, on his lips; wants Michael’s lips on his own, suffocating him with the force of feeling that resonates so deep and beautifully within his heart. He wants the tug of his heartstrings when Michael pulls his body closer and whispers that he’ll make Luke feel better, he always will, no matter what. He wants so much. Luke’s heart is hammering in his chest and he feels like he’s suffocating and burning alive and getting shot in the heart all at the same time and he thinks to himself, fuck, heartbreak is a bitch. Michael’s a bitch, Michael is likely the worst person on the face of the entire fucking world, on the face of the entire fucking galaxy, of the _universe._ Except. Luke doesn’t mean that. He never could. Never would. Luke knows this, and it just makes him hurt more. If he could just hate the older boy, things would be so much easier, right? But he can’t. Luke could never hate Michael. He flips open his journal again, flipping to a different page, and quickly scribbling words down.

_If I could dream long enough, you’d tell me I’d be fine._

_We were too young and too dumb to know anything about love. Do I know better now?_

He shuts the journal.

Luke flips onto his stomach and shakily breathes into the pillow, letting tears fall freely, but cutting off his sobs in his throat. Why did Michael have to get drunk that night, why couldn’t he have just. Luke cuts his mind off for a moment when a particularly gut-wrenching sob came from his throat. He peeks over the side of the pillow to check if it woke Michael, internally hoping it did, but it didn’t. Luke clears his throat as quietly as possible before getting up and walking into the bathroom and cutting on the shower. If he couldn’t have the warmth radiating off of Michael, a hot shower would do, right? Luke thinks so.

It does help, a little. Once dried off, he wanders back into the room. Luke stops in the doorway before the beds, noticing Michael. Luke smiles melancholically, thinking to himself how beautiful Michael looked with the moonlight shining over his sleeping figure. Luke shakes his head, walking back to his bed and climbing in, wrapping himself in the blankets until the only thing peeking out was the tip of his nose. As he drifts off again, he tries to drown out the hurt that is in his heart, the feeling of screaming at the top of his lungs, the begging and pleading for Michael just to love him right. His last thought before falling asleep, the thing that makes him chuckle at the irony sleepily before drifting off; you really do have me wrapped around your goddamn finger.

When Luke wakes up, it’s before Michael. He rubs his eyes and stretches his back before getting up and wandering around, looking for the room service menu. Once located, he orders himself food, and food he thinks Michael would want. It pings a feeling of pain in his heart, but it’s fine. _I’ll be just fine,_ Luke tells himself, recalling what he wrote last night. He goes back into his bed and curls up again, checking his phone, replying to emails, texting his mom that he misses her (because he does. He could use a hug from his mom right now. He doesn’t focus on it so he can stay in a relatively stable mind.). Eventually, he decides he should probably wake Michael up, which. Is a lot, to say the least.

It takes him another ten minutes to muster up the courage to get up to do it. Once at the edge of Michael’s bed, he braces himself.

Luke gently shoves Michael’s shoulder, whispering gently to wake him up. After a few failed attempts, Luke begins to feel stupid, craning over his band mate, trying to wake him up. He sighs, trying one last time.

“Michael, Mike. Get up. Food’s on the way.” Luke tries, hopefully.

Michael makes a little grunt-like noise, shoving deeper into the blankets and pillow. At least it was a reaction. Luke considers this progress, briefly considering just leaving Michael like this and calling it a day. He woke him up for a second, didn’t he?

But, he tries again.

“C’mon, wake up. I ordered pancakes. I think there’s some cool syrup that comes with it that isn’t, like, maple. Get up, lazy.” Luke teases.

“’m up, ‘m up, stop talking.” Michael moans.

Luke breathes a laugh through his nose.

“Morning.”

“How early’s’it?” asks Michael.

Luke checks the clock.

“’round 10. Get up, make yourself presentable. Room service people are coming any minute.” Luke says, walking back to his bed.

Michael sits up, rubbing his eyes.

“Why? W’s wrong with how I look now?” Michael asks.

“Nothing’s…wrong. I just know that you’re not too crazy about being shirtless in front of people, is all.” Luke looks over at Michael, genuinely, carefully. “It’s fine if you don’t wanna get dressed, obviously, but, like, maybe put sweatpants on if you’re gonna be getting out of the bed when they come in. You may be fine with it, but they probably don’t wanna see a guy walking around in spiderman boxers.” Luke jokes.

Michael snorts and looks at Luke for a moment, catching his eye. They just sit there, looking at each other, for what feels like forever. The morning sun streams through the glossy windows and thin curtains, filling the room with a bright, calming, warm glow. It’s silent, save for the roar of the air conditioning unit buzzing. Both beds are messy; white sheets crumpled on the foot of Luke’s bed and sprawled messily around Michael on the other. He can hear the faint noise of laughter from a room over, maybe a floor down, and Luke wonders if Michael can hear it too. Everything is so…quiet. Luke feels like he’s about to combust. This is…too intimate, _toomuch,tooreal_. Just as Michael opens his mouth to say something, there’s a knock on the door. They both jump, and Luke gets up to get it, tossing Michael a shirt in case the hotel staff has to come in the room.

“Here, put it on. I’ll try to just wheel it in without them. Just in case, though.” Luke says, walking to the door.

Once inside, after thanking the staff about a billion times because it’s a thing Luke does when he’s nervous, but also because he’s polite like that, Luke wheels the cart into the room.

Michael is staring at the wall opposite him, not quite looking out the window, but Luke thinks he could probably see what’s going on outside in his peripherals. Luke worries, just a little.

“Food is here. Make yourself at home.” Luke says, trying to get Michael out of his head.

After no movement from Michael, Luke pipes up.

“Hey, Mike, what’s wrong?”

Michael’s head jerks in Luke’s direction, as if he was startled. He probably was.

“I’m sorry.” Michael says. Luke chokes on his orange juice, because, _what?_

“What?” Luke voices, imitating his thoughts.

“I said, I’m sorry. For hurting you. And yesterday.” Michael says, looking up to Luke and meeting his eye.

Luke places his plate on the bed beside him and moves closer to the edge of his bed, closer to Michael, but the gap between beds keeps it far enough to maintain sanity.

“You…” Luke begins.

“No, listen, I. I don’t know what the fuck is going on and I’ve noticed how sad you are these days and I know you’re gonna hate me more than you already do, but I read a bit of your journal and I didn’t know how bad you were hurting, Luke, why didn’t you just tell me, or punch me, or kick me out of the band? I could’ve-should’ve- been apologizing sooner, Luke. I know an apology is probably the last thing that’ll help you feel better, but I hope it’s something, because I hate seeing you upset, I hate seeing you hurting and not knowing what to do, Luke, I hate seeing all these things hitting you left and right, knowing well that you can’t handle it, but you continue on with life like nothing happened.” Michael rambles, anxiously. “I’m sorry, is all.”

Luke is, for lack of better words, numb. His heart is racing and tears are falling from his eyes slowly. His hands are shaking where they rest on his thigh and his mind is going a million miles an hour but he’s focused on-

How did he not notice? His journal, his private, filled to the brim with sadness, journal is laying beside Michael. He should hate Michael, just like Michael said he would, but. After a long while, Luke speaks.

“I don’t hate you. I never could.” Luke replies, looking downwards.

Michael’s head pops up from where he was focused on anxiously twiddling his bracelets.

“What?”

“I don’t hate you. I never could.” Luke replies, louder. “I never fucking could, is the thing. I’ve tried to, god, believe me, I’ve tried to hate you. But I can’t. I can’t wrap my mind around what hating you would be like- “

“You hated me for a year- “

“No, I didn’t, I never hated you. Disliked, sure, but that isn’t hate. Hating you would be like saying that the earth is flat; it’s impossible. You’re so…captivating, Michael. So fucking captivating and once someone is under your spell, they never leave, they can’t get away. They can’t hurt you because it’ll hurt themselves more, and they can’t hate you because it’s impossible. Everything is so fucking. It’s all _there_ with you. It’s the best feeling in the world when you’re close to you, but the scariest and absolute, most gut-wrenchingly painful one when you aren’t. Everything is all or nothing, but you don’t have the ‘nothing’.” Luke says, hurting, breathing slowly.

Michael just looks at him.

Luke considers his options for a moment. He could sit here, continuing the conversation. Or, what he wants to do and has been craving to do for so long, he could go over and sit beside Michael and see where that goes.

“Luke- “Michael begins.

Luke gets up, walks the small distance to Michael’s bed, and situates himself beside his bandmate.

It sort of shocks both of them, when their knees touch.

“Luke- “Michael tries again, looking into Luke’s eyes.

Luke feels like the world is on fire as he looks into Michael’s eyes, heart hammering in his ears.

They stay silent, looking at each other, knees touching. It probably looks ridiculous; two grown men sitting this close, just looking at each other. The tension is so thick that nothing could cut through it. They’re waiting for each other to make the first move, but are both unwilling to do it. Luke doesn’t think things could get much worse for him, so he breathes out shakily and moves closer, tilting his face downwards to look at his own legs.

After a few more moments that feel like millennia, Michael tries to speak up again.

“Luke- “

Luke sighs, throwing caution to the wind, leaning up closer, whispering, interrupting.

“Kiss me like you love me.”

Michael’s breath hitches, backing away, starting to ask if Luke is sure, but-

“Please.”

It’s the pleading, desperate, exhausted, heartbroken tone that sends Michael forward. Luke’s eyes are squeezed shut when their lips meet, and Michael feels Luke gently place his palm on his neck, pulling him in. Michael wraps his arm around Luke’s torso, keeping him close. Luke is shaking in his arms, the raw emotion of the kiss searing his lips and lighting his body on fire. Every ending in his vessel is ignited with all of the pent-up emotions Luke has been repressing for nearly three years, and. And he can’t help it when tears start falling, when his hands shake where they rest in Michael’s hair, on Michael’s neck, on his chest, wherever they are. When Michael pulls away, Luke grips his shirt and pulls him in for more, whining quietly against his lips like a hurt puppy. Michael’s hands are on him again, and Luke loosens the grip on his shirt because, yes, never stop, never leave me again. His hands burn Luke’s skin and the tongue tracing along Luke’s lower lip has him whimpering heartbrokenly, opening his mouth, tongue dancing with Michael’s.

When Michael’s hand goes up to cup the back of Luke’s head, his fingers tangle in the long locks and pull ever so slightly. Luke breaks the kiss, gasping, needing air. Their eyes meet; teary, sky blue eyes with puffy red skin meet forest green. Their foreheads are touching, noses brushing, lips just far enough to not be. Their breathing, panting, interlocks and Michael brushes his lips gently to Luke’s. Luke’s eyes flutter shut and he tries to kiss back, but Michael is gone. Just as Luke begins to say something, Michael cuts him off.

“Luke, we-“

“I don’t care, I don’t care, I miss you, please. We can go back to how it was before, we can do whatever just. I. Please, Michael. One last time.” Luke says, desperately.

Against his better ruling, Michael nods, maneuvering Luke to lay on his back. Once settled, he sets himself on Luke’s thighs, looking into his eyes for reassurance. When Luke nods, Michael leans back in, brushing his lips to Luke’s.

Luke wraps his arms around Michael’s neck, hands coming up to tangle in the hair at the back of his head. It’s longer than it was all those years ago, and Luke tries to remember what every strand feels like in his hands so he’ll never forget. He doesn’t think he ever could; he could never forget how it feels to be underneath Michael.

Michael bites gently at Luke’s lip, pulling away to murmur.

“You don’t have a lip ring anymore.” Michael whispers against Luke’s lips.

It shoots pain through Luke, because, no, he doesn’t. He shakes his head.

“It’s different, kissing you without it.” Michael continues.

Luke pulls Michael back in, wants to tell him to pay attention to how this feels, without the ring, so he can remember too, but doesn’t.

Michael pulls away again, brushing his nose against Luke’s, moving his lips down towards his jaw and neck before speaking again.

“Feels like kissing you before the band took off, fuck.” Michael says.

It sounds like that memory hurt him, and a part of Luke hopes it did, because it just about ruined Luke.

Luke starts to tell him off, but his words get caught in his throat when Michael sucks a small spot on his neck, just below his jaw.

“Michael,” Luke whispers, tugging on the handful of Michael’s hair he has.

Michael moves to a different spot, sucks another mark, and is met with a small moan from Luke.

“Yeah,” he says, “yeah, it’s okay. Let go Luke.” Michael says, rubbing the younger boy’s hip.

Luke’s mind works faster than his heart, and when the pain settles, he pulls Michael’s head back up to kiss him.

Michael’s lips work over Luke’s, teeth teasingly nipping at the younger’s bottom lip. Michael smiles against him for a moment.

“Kinda miss the ring. It was fun hearing you moan whenever I’d play with it.” Michael teases, kissing him sensually for a second.

Luke’s hips nudge up against his will, and he moans just slightly.

Michael smiles again, nose brushing Luke’s again before kissing him deeply, no trace of tongue. Just lips pressed on lips.

When Michael’s hand creeps back into Luke’s hair, Luke whines out a pretty noise against Michael’s lips.

“Yeah? Like my hand in your hair?”

Luke nods, pressing his head back firmer into Michael’s hand.

“’s that why you grew it out? So people would tug on it?” Michael asks, gripping the strands tighter, other hand squeezing Luke’s hip.

“Yeah, love it. Love-Michael, fuck” Luke answers as Michael cuts him off with a sharp tug to his hair.

Michael smiles and goes back to kissing Luke, muffling his moans when he tugs on Luke’s hair.

At a particularly rough tug, Luke bucks his hips up against Michael’s again, moaning.

“Please, Mike.” Luke whispers quietly.

“Please what?”

“Just. Please.” Luke replies, looking into Michael’s eyes.

At that, Michael’s hands go to Luke’s hoodie, pulling it off of his body and helping Luke settle down again before taking his own shirt off. He stays there, legs spread, straddling Luke’s hips, admiring.

“Luke, you look. Fuck.”

Luke breathes out a laugh, bringing his hands to Michael’s hips.

“So do you.”

“No but like. You look like. You look like a real guy now, like a, like a proper man, now. You’re so broad, and-and you just. Don’t look 18 anymore. Holy shit.” Michael says, running his hand along Luke’s chest.

Luke squeezes Michael’s hips and smiles up at him.

“You somehow got even more attractive. Look at you. You have, like, muscles now. And a new tattoo. God, Michael, fuck.” Luke breathes out.

Michael smiles down at him, brushing his fingers through Luke’s hair again.

“I can’t tell if I’m too intimidated to fuck you now that you look like this or not.”

“I can tell you that you look like you could fucking ruin me, now. You look so good with the longer hair and stubble, Mike.” Luke teases.

Michael groans, tugging at Luke’s hair. Luke’s grin grows wider.

“Still a tease, I see.” Michael tells him.

“Just a bit. For you.” Luke doesn’t mean to add the last part, but.

“Yeah? For me?” Michael starts, leaning down and kissing at Luke’s chest.

Luke considers for a moment, realizing that they’ve come this far, what’s the worst that could happen?

“Yeah, just you. Always for you.” Luke breathes out, hand clutching Michael’s hair.

Michael’s hips grind down for a second, mouth leaving Luke’s chest with a loud ‘pop!’.

“What about that girl you were seeing?” Michael asks.

“She wasn’t you.”

“Did you tease her?”

“Not like I tease you.” Luke answers honestly.

Michael resumes sucking at Luke’s chest, moving up towards his ear.

“Did she tease you?” Michael asks.

“N-not like you.”

Michael hums, kissing over a certain spot.

“Was she a good girl for you?” Michael asks between kisses.

“Michael- “Luke gasps out, nails scratching down his back.

“Or were you a good boy for her?” Michael says, lowly, biting Luke’s ear.

Luke squeaks out a moan, bucking his hips up against Michael’s.

Michael smirks.

“Mm, so you were her good boy. What’s it like? To have a girl on top?”

“It-it’s, Michael, please- “

“Tell me, Luke” Michael prods, kissing his way down Luke’s stomach.

“It was, it was- “

“Go on…” Michael says, hands and mouth leaving Luke entirely.

“It was good, fuck, so good, Michael. But it wasn’t you. It was never you. She could never be you.”

With that, Michael’s hands are back on Luke, squeezing his hips, nails scraping down his sides. His lips slamming into Luke’s almost painfully. Luke moans, hips pumping up to Michael’s desperately, aching.

“Touch me, fuck, touch me.” Luke begs, breath hot against Michael’s lips.

Michael’s hands go down to Luke’s sweats, pushing them down, Luke’s hips pushing up to help get them off. Once they’re off and thrown across the room, Michael palms over Luke through his boxers. Luke squirms, moaning helplessly, hand wrapping around Michael’s wrist, pushing him to go harder as Luke bucks up.

“Fuck, you look so good Luke. So fucking pretty. Look at you.” Michael whispers, almost in disbelief.

“Michael- “Luke moans, pushing up harder.

“Yeah, that’s it, just like that.”

“You too, wanna…you too.” Luke gasps out.

Michael nods, and Luke’s other hand goes to push against Michael over his boxers. Michael chokes on a laugh, bucking up into Luke’s hand.

“Why are we…we’ve sucked each other’s dicks and done a whole lot more before, why are we still in boxers?”

Luke makes a half moan, half laugh noise and moves his hand to push off Michael’s boxers. When they’re off, Luke can’t take his eyes off of Michael. Michael just looks down at Luke, smiling gently, before pushing Luke’s down as well.

They push their boxers off the side of the bed and Michael lays on Luke, arms bracing him to where he’s barely hovering over Luke.

“Hey.” Michael smiles, faces barely apart.

“Hi.” Luke replies, looking at Michael like he hung the stars in the sky, which. He probably did, Luke thinks.

Michael leans down, brushing his lips against Luke’s gently.

“What do you want?” he asks.

“You.” Luke replies, quietly, honestly.

Michael kisses him again.

“You have me.”

And. That hurt Luke. This all just, hurts, but it feels so good and he never wants it to end.

“I don’t, but. I do right now, so I’m gonna make the most of it. I want you to fuck me, so bad, but I don’t think I’d make it through you fingering me without, like, breaking down and ruining the moment because I’m all snotty and sobbing and can’t breathe in a bad way. So. Just-.” Luke pauses, wrapping his legs around Michael’s hips, smiling at him and looking up from under his lashes. He leans in, kissing him briefly, “-have your way with me. Without fucking me.”

Michael’s breath stutters, grinding down a couple times while figuring out what he wants to do.

“Is blowing you too much?”

Luke gasps.

“I-I don’t know. Probably. I’m gonna end up crying about whatever, so. Maybe. I dunno. I wanna blow you but, I. I dunno if I could handle it from you.” Luke says.

Michael smiles, nodding.

“In that case, get down there. I know what to do with you. But I also know how much you love being told what to do, so get down there, don’t come.”

Luke whines a small noise and nods, waiting for Michael to flip onto his back so he can get to work.

Once Michael is settled, Luke is immediately between his legs with Michael’s hand in Luke’s hair. Luke kisses all over Michael’s thighs, humming when Michael tugs a little on his hair. He playfully bites down on the inside of one of Michael’s thighs, and Michael makes a squeaky noise, tugging harshly on Luke’s hair. Luke moans, pulling away, and kissing around Michael’s hips. He leaves a couple marks on them, and kisses everywhere else, mouth everywhere but where Michael needs him most.

“C’mon, be a good boy for me.” Michael says, voice laced with a teasing, dominating tone.

Luke won’t though, looking up at Michael from under his pretty lashes, batting his eyes, kissing just the tip of his cock before moving somewhere else.

Michael groans, but lets Luke have his way for a moment. When Luke is in the middle of kissing Michael’s thighs, and his stubble scratches so nicely against them, Michael tugs Luke away by his hair. Luke whimpers out in pain, but the pain is overridden by shocks of pleasure shooting through his body. Michael directs Luke to his cock by his hair, and Luke is on Cloud 9.

“Wanna wrap your pretty lips around me?”

Luke nods, opening his mouth and resting his tongue on what he can reach, looking up at Michael.

“Go on, then. Make me feel good. Remember, don’t come.”

Luke nods again, wrapping his lips around Michael’s tip, hollowing his cheeks, moving downward.

Michael’s fist tightens in Luke’s hair, not pushing him down, but just holding him there. When Luke tries to take more in, Michael yanks his hair, hard.

“You take what you’re given.” Michael tells Luke.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I’ll do better.” Luke replies, nodding.

When Michael lets Luke back on him, it’s without a hand in his hair. For a while, he lets Luke do his own thing, but stopping him when he does more than he should. After some time, Luke gets more and more desperate with how he’s sucking; he moans whenever he tastes Michael dripping onto his tongue, his eyes water, he’s almost constantly squirming.

“Such a good boy, you’re doing so well.” Michael smiles, cutting off into a moan.

Luke moans, sucking harder, like his life depended on it. He looks up at Michael, with his beautiful blue eyes, now red and clouded with lust and tears dripping down his cheeks, and that sends Michael spiraling, hurdling towards his finish.

“Luke, fuck, so close. I’m so close.” Michael grits out.

Luke whimpers, taking him in further, yanking Michael’s hand from the sheets and shoving it into his hair. Michael moans when he realizes what Luke wants. He tightens his grip and pushes Luke’s head down as he bucks his hips up and Luke chokes for a moment before squirming intensely.

“Lay still, baby, don’t come. Fuck, just like that, Luke, baby- “

Luke moans the entire time Michael releases, swallowing most of it. He pulls off, whimpering, staying where he is.

“C’mere, c’mere Luke.” Michael says.

Luke clambers up, face in the crook of Michael’s neck, cock slowly grinding against Michael’s hip without him even realizing. He’s crying, just slightly; he’s so overwhelmed and he misses Michael so much and-

“Can I touch you?”

Luke grinds down harder, whimpering.

“Or do you just wanna come like that? Your choice, baby.” Michael says, kissing Luke’s hair.

Luke rapidly shakes his head.

“Touch me, please. Please, touch me.”

Michael smiles, moving his hand down to Luke’s cock, wrapping around it softly. Luke gasps.

“Hmm, dripping for me baby. So nice and wet.” Michael drawls out.

“Talk, please, Mike.”

Michael smiles, pulling Luke up slightly so he could whisper in his ear.

“You look so pretty, Luke. So goddamn gorgeous like this, sprawled out on top of me, making the prettiest noises when I touch you. Hmm, yeah. Just like that baby.” Michael says, moving his hand faster over Luke.

“That’s it, fuck my fist darling, just like that. Fuck, you have no fucking idea how much I love hearing you, seeing you like this. I was so fucking jealous when you were dating that girl; she got to touch you and taste you and I couldn’t. Made me so jealous, baby. She wasn’t as good as me, though, was she?” Michael asks, teasing Luke.

Luke whimpers and jams his hips up hard.

“Answer me, baby.” Michael drawls, right into Luke’s ear, slowing his fist down.

“Mikey, no, no, never, she was never as good as you. Fuck, please, please- “

“Hmm, that’s what I thought. You said she was on top, yeah? Did you like it? Did you like how she was telling you what to do?”

“Yes, fuck, so much, Mikey, please- “

“Yeah? What’d she tell you? Did she speak like this to you? Were you here babyboy?”

“Michael- “Luke whines, bucking into him faster.

“Answer, Luke. What’d she say? Were you- “Michael slows his hand to an almost complete stop. “-her babyboy?”

Luke squeaks, moans, and begins speaking.

“Yeah, Mikey, her babyboy, but she didn’t call me that, sh- “

“She didn’t? What was it then?”

Luke whimpers and waits a moment.

“S-slut. I was her slut. Her toy.”

Michael groans, speeding his hand up. Luke moans, biting down on Michael’s shoulder.

“Yeah? You like being her slut baby? Because you’re not my slut, I could never have you as a slut.”

Luke is so close he’s shaking, crying.

“Mm, no. You’re too sweet to be my slut. I used to call you babyboy and, yeah, that’s about right. You’re so sweet and pliant and cute. You aren’t dirty like a slut, baby. At least not with me. You’re such a good boy, Luke, fuck. You close darling?”

“So close, I’m so close, oh my god, don’t stop.” Luke babbles.

“I’m not baby. I never would. I wish we had forever for this. I wanna spend so long teasing you. Wanna make you come so much you cry, wanna make you feel good, baby.”

Luke is panting, grinding into Michael’s fist, holding his wrist with one hand, the other scraping down Michael’s chest.

“Please,” Luke chokes out.

“Please what?” Michael continues.

“Hold me, fuck, please just hold me and make me come. Make me come, I’m so close,”

“Hold you how? Like this?” Michael asks, wrapping his free hand around Luke’s torso, pressing him as close as he can to himself.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck me, please, I’m so close, need more, need you to,”

Luke is too incoherent for Michael to understand, but he tries and racks his brain for what used to set Luke off. They’re all pointless, until-

“I’ve got you baby, c’mon.” Michael says, free hand finding Luke’s and interlocking their fingers. “I’ve got you. I won’t let go, c’mon, come for me Luke, that’s it.” Michael says, jerking Luke quicker until his body shudders, teeth clamping down around Michael’s shoulder, whimpering, sobbing, squeezing his hand with all that he has.

“That’s it, so good for me, you did so good.” Michael says, taking his hand off of Luke’s cock and rubbing his back.

Luke whimpers, body lurching with the power of his sobs, jerking violently against Michael.

“Shh, it’s okay, calm down, I’m here, it’s okay Luke.”

Luke shakes his head, “It isn’t okay, it isn’t, you don’t love me, you just fucking- “

“It’s okay. Don’t think Luke. Don’t think of it right now. We can talk later. Rest.” Michael replies, squeezing Luke’s hand.

Luke whimpers pitifully, but squeezes his hand back.

“Michael,”

“Hush. Rest. Don’t think.”

“That’s all I ever fucking do, how do I not think, Michael? Especially when you’re right fucking here, holding me and my fucking hand like you love me- “

“Relax, Luke. Please. Don’t work yourself up. We can talk tomorrow.”

Luke realizes he can’t even push himself off of where he’s laying on Michael. He’s too weak, too exhausted, too…living. His breathing evens out, eventually.

“That’s it. Rest, darling.”

Luke cries for a bit more, with Michael still rubbing his back and holding his hand, before dozing off.

When he wakes up, he’s still in Michael’s arms.

Michael smiles sleepily up at him, rubbing his bare back.

“Morning, sleepy.” He says.

Luke smiles, shoving his nose back into Michael’s neck.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself. Sorry I like, shut you off. I didn’t want you going into an anxiety attack. I know how bad those get for you. It wasn’t trying to shut you up because I don’t wanna face the music. I just. Was looking out for you, I guess.” Michael explains.

Luke sighs, nods.

“It’s okay. I.”

“What are you thinking?” Michael asks after a moment.

“I’m not, to be honest. I don’t know what I want to do. I’m gonna just-I’m gonna ask you something, and I need you to be completely honest, okay?”

“Of course. Always.” Michael replies, squeezing Luke’s hand.

“How. What-Hold on. Let me phrase it.” Luke pauses. “What do you feel…towards me?”

“Wow.” Michael huffs. “Um. I feel a lot for you. Lots of stuff. I wanna make you happy, I wanna be there for you, I just. I don’t think I want you… exactly how you want me. I love you, so, so fucking much, but. I just. I don’t think it’s enough. I love you to the end of time, but that isn’t enough. Because the love I have for you, it’s, it’s. It’s the love we had when we were kids. You don’t need that love. That love is silly, and fun, and it doesn’t ever talk about the issues that are draining both of us. That’s the love I have for you. Fuck, I wish I could love you like you needed, I really do, I just. Don’t think that I can. I’ve been trying so hard to just ignore how I felt about you because I know how much love means to you and I know I fucked it all up all those years ago and I know that I’m like, the luckiest guy alive, for what just happened but. I don’t want to love you because once I do, I can’t stop. You’re just as captivating as I am, just like you said. Even after all these fucking years, I’m still wrapped around your goddamn finger, Luke.”

Luke lets his tears fall now, sobbing gently, because yeah, what an echo of how he felt the night before. They always were so in sync.

“Don’t cry. Please.”

“Okay. It’s okay Michael. You know how I feel, I’m not gonna talk about that, you know how I feel. It’s okay. Just-just give me a minute. Hand me my journal?”

Michael nods, handing it to him.

“Why not just tell me- “

“It’s part of a song.” Luke says, not sure if it’s a lie or not.

Michael lets it go, and rubs Luke’s back as he writes. He doesn’t try to sneak a peek.

_You imagine us together when you close your eyes,_

_Helpless, ~~we’re on~~ from? the other side. _

_Can you tell me why I hold onto you and you onto me?_

“Okay. Okay, I’m done. It’s done.” Luke says, breathing deeply.

“You okay?” Michael asks.

“Yeah. C’mon. I think the bus is leaving soon. We need to get ready.

When the bus comes and picks them up, they drive for a couple minutes before it drops them off at the venue. They mess around backstage before soundcheck, then go out, answer fan questions, and return backstage. Luke gravitates towards Michael but with Ashton in tow. Then, they go out. Michael and Luke talk to each other like nothing is wrong, putting on the façade for the fans. When the show is over, they all rush backstage, cheering and laughing because of how amazing it was. When they get back to the bus, Luke climbs back into his bunk, finds his journal, takes a deep breath, and opens it. His heart hammers in his ears and his chest hurts. He uncaps the pen, and writes.

_Why won’t you love me?_


End file.
